


honey honey

by crimsongravedigger



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 10:42:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6750661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsongravedigger/pseuds/crimsongravedigger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Luhan tastes like honey and Sehun smells like cologne and Sundays never seem to be enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	honey honey

**Author's Note:**

> it's my first time writing smut sorry bye

When Luhan’s sleepy eyes flutter open on a warm Sunday morning, pale sunlight creeping through white curtains and soft blond locks sprawled messily on the pillow, spring doesn’t seem so far away anymore. Luhan can feel it on his fingertips when they brush against his lips as a silent yawn escapes from them, he can feel it on his tongue as sweet honey slides down his throat during breakfast, he can feel it in his lungs as he steps in his little garden and brings a newly born primrose to his nostrils, inhaling its scent deeply before placing it behind his ear.

March is such a beautiful month, Luhan finds himself thinking when he’s surrounded by colorful tiny flowers and fresh green grass. He walks through the garden that is almost as big as the house he grew in, a cream colored cardigan twice his size on his narrow shoulders and almond eyes still a bit sticky with sleep, until he reaches his favorite spot to spend the mornings. It’s nothing special, to be honest; it’s just a white porch swing covered in pillows, but it’s still very dear to Luhan. Saying that that porch swing is a friend of his, maybe, wouldn’t even be an exaggeration. Luhan’s parents bought it when he was little and since he was a very shy kid, he would play alone on that swing until it was lunch time. He did his homework there too, as long as the weather was nice enough. There, on those old but comfortable printed pillows, Luhan spent his childhood and part of his teen years watching the sun set and rise, flower bloom and die, seasons repeating year after year and now that he’s almost eighteen years old, everything seems a little more meaningful than before.

He sits on the edge of the old swing and with much surprise, Luhan realizes his feet barely touch the ground, more or less like when he was thirteen. Things have changed, but apparently his height isn’t one of them. Not that he can do much about it, since his mother is such a tiny woman that sometimes people say they look like siblings instead of mother and son. Luhan isn’t sure about his father though, he kinda disappeared from his life after his fifth birthday, but he bets he must be short too.  
Luhan reminds himself that trying to remember things such as that isn’t worth the pain. The past can’t be brought back, and honestly, Luhan feels okay about it. His mother is happier, too. She sings while baking cakes, those delicious strawberry shortcakes that make Luhan’s mouth water, and she wears bright colors even when the sky is grey and she takes care of the garden like it’s her second born.

Sometimes Luhan would help her too, but his skin is way too delicate to work with tools and dirt, so he chooses flowers and plants and decorations. She once said that Luhan’s father left because living in the countryside was driving him crazy, and Luhan chose to believe her. Since then, he didn’t ask any more questions and his mother was silently thankful for that.

Luhan likes living in that small village hidden among hills. People are nice and kind, they help each other out like a big family and it’s okay if everyone knows everything about everyone. He has nothing to hide, after all. The village might seem little and forgotten by the rest of the world, but it lacks nothing: there’s the supermarket, a little one, there’s also a tiny hospital for emergencies, there’s a church and the pub which is the place where boys and girls spend most of their spare time. There are shops, schools and a playground for children as well, where little Luhan used to meet his old classmates on Saturday afternoons.

Luhan brings his pale knees to his chest and rests his head on them, just enjoying the chill wind that dances playfully through his hair and clothes. The scent of all those flowers makes him slightly dizzy, but it’s a feeling he doesn’t dislike. Actually, even though he’s never been in a romantic relationship before, he’s pretty sure that falling in love must feel something like that.  _Does love make you dizzy?_  Luhan wonders as his wrist watch hits half past ten and the church bells start dancing like every other Sunday morning to remind the villagers that mass is about to start.

He likes going to church to pray, but even though he spends ten minutes on his knees every Sunday morning, he’s can’t say that faith and the love of the Lord are safe inside his heart. Sometimes he would get distracted too, and when the pastor’s speech is finally over, he would automatically forget everything right after getting up from the wooden bench like nothing happened. The only reason he shows up regularly is because he can sing freely with other older women and some children. Luhan loves singing more than anything else; if he could, he’d rather sing than talk.

He quickly runs inside to change clothes and kiss his mother goodbye, he grabs two apples from the kitchen counter and then he’s off to church on his bicycle. He pedals so fast that the wind cuts his face like a sharp knife, the sound of gravel echoes on the background and he only slows down when he spots Baekhyun’s waving hand in the air.

“Good morning” Luhan greets his friend as he hops down from his bicycle, deciding to carry it by hand so they could chat some more before arriving to church. Baekhyun’s smile is so blinding that the sun is nothing compared to that; he places a hand on Luhan’s shoulder and starts talking about how he’s excited to sing again after missing mass last week because of his fever, and Luhan nods because he can relate to that. He missed listening to Baekhyun’s voice as well, a voice that is basically a gift from above, and it’s no surprise when the pastor always chooses him as the lead singer. Luhan doesn’t complain though, he can’t reach such high notes and just being able to sing along with the villagers is enough to brighten his day.

“So…any plans for your birthday next month?” Baekhyun asks after thankfully accepting one of Luhan’s red apples. The latter shakes his head negatively, shoulders suddenly heavy and a sad smile on his pouty lips. What should he do anyway? He doesn’t have a driving license nor a car, so hosting a party in the city would be impossible. He doesn’t even have many people to invite honestly, and even those people probably wouldn’t come anyway, plus his mother wouldn’t be happy about it. He might as well just stay at home and ask Baekhyun to come over to watch a movie, which is exactly what happened last year. And the year before that. And the year before that too.

“You’re turning eighteen, everybody plans something special for their eighteenth birthday!” Baekhyun gently scolds him, hands gesturing in the air and the words  _‘i don’t even look eighteen i look twelve’_  stuck inside Luhan’s head like a nursery rhyme.  
They reach the church courtyard when the sun is high in the blue sky, but as soon as they spot an elegant white car with cans attached on the back, they immediately understand that something’s off. There are white petals that lead to the front door, soft ribbons made of chiffon wrapped around trees, people gathering around and a bunch of kids holding white balloons.

“It’s a wedding!” Baekhyun exclaims with joy, eyes almost popping out from his face and hands clapping so loudly that Luhan jumps a little. The boy sprints towards the stairs to look inside, determined to take a glimpse of the bride or the groom. Luhan stays back, fingers fidgeting and curious eyes scanning the crowd, deciding then to just rest against a tree since Baekhyun is lively chatting with the priest and he probably won’t be back soon.

Luhan is secretly glad he decided to change clothes before going out; with his elegant shoes, navy blue shorts and white button up he almost looks like one of the guests and maybe that’s why no one is paying attention to him, which is perfect because he knows absolutely no one and it would be awkward to chat with them. Luhan thinks he spots the groom in a group of men because he’s wearing a different tuxedo, a much more elegant one, with a light blue bowtie that matches the flowers wore by some of the guests and a nervous but excited expression on his face. A young man next to him is laughing and patting his shoulder in such a friendly way that Luhan wonders if they’re brothers or at least related in any way; they look alike too. There’s a camera hanging from his neck, a camera that seems as expensive as the church itself, and Luhan’s sure that he must be the photographer. He’s wearing a midnight blue suit and polished shoes, black tie and black belt, a pair of sunglasses that make him look like a movie star and the cigarette held between his index and middle finger makes Luhan’s tummy hurt uncomfortably. The boy stares as the man brings it to his lips and a second later light grey smoke escapes from his nostrils, disappearing in a foggy cloud- oh. Luhan has to physically pinch his own arm to stop gazing at the photographer. The boy didn’t think it would be even remotely possible to be this handsome, and he thinks that God must have spent extra time on that man (it was totally worth it).

Luhan has never been to a wedding before, but he has seen some pictures in books and his mother once showed him her wedding photobook. He has also seen a couple of bridal dresses behind a shop window when he visited the city, and all those sparkles and glitter made him wish he was a girl. They were so beautiful, so enchanting, but the idea that those dresses weren’t made for him ruined his day. That evening, after dinner, he took papers and pens and designed his own perfect wedding dress. He payed attention to every detail and designed the shoes too, because brides wear shoes too and Luhan really liked white platforms since his mother wore them too. She looked like a princess oh her wedding day.

Eventually, two centuries and four weeks later, Baekhyun comes back with a bright grin on his lips and a white balloon in his right hand. He tells Luhan about the wedding, he tells him about the groom and the bride, he also mentions their names and how beautiful their ceremony will be, but Luhan’s eyes keep landing on the photographer’s slim but toned figure and his cheeks must be slightly red because Baekhyun places cold fingers on them and asks if everything’s okay. Luhan nods carelessly, not really wanting to talk about what’s on his mind at the moment (because Baekhyun would probably bring the man over with a lame excuse and Luhan doesn’t want to die yet).

“Father said we can wait until the ceremony is over, there might be food later” Baekhyun suggests before biting his red apple, juice dripping from his chin and a disappointed sigh as a big drop lands on his new shirt. Luhan sits on a big rock and crosses his legs, not really paying much attention to his complaining friend. He hears him muttering that his mother will be so mad that he’d be grounded for a week, but as soon as Luhan spots the photographer coming out from the church, his mind just stops working and his eyes stare until the man casually turns his head and meets his gaze through his Rayban sunglasses. Baekhyun keeps talking and talking and talking and talking and talking and-

Luhan holds his breath as the man holds up the camera and places right in front of his face, adjusting the lens until the scenery is completely on focus and just like a heartbeat, he takes a picture and that  _click_  is so damn loud that Luhan swears someone just shot him. The man smirks and holds up his hand to wave at him, and before his brain can process the whole situation, Luhan raise his own hand and waves back.

“Who are you waving at?” Baekhyun furrows his brows as he says that, fingers still trying desperately to make the stain disappear from his shirt. Luhan shakes his head and he’s so damn embarrassed by the whole situation that if he could, he’d start digging his own grave.

The buffet is ready in record time. From what they can see, the food seems extremely fresh and even though eating in front of the church might not be the best idea ever, the tablecloths and the decorations are so stunning that Baekhyun runs like a bolt towards the tables to take a few pictures with his cellphone. There are violets and roses hanging from the gazebo, a mess of pink and red and white, and Luhan really wants to stand on tiptoe to pick one and bring it home. Roses aren’t born yet in his garden, so primroses will do. They might be little and their colors might not be the brightest, but their scent is so fresh and so peculiar that Luhan could smell them for two days straight.

“Aren’t weddings beautiful?” a voice says as a strong scent of aftershave makes Luhan dizzy for a second. It’s so intense and sweet and so good, so good it’s almost like a drug. Luhan meets a pair of pale pink lips, dark suit, sunglasses on top of his head and a camera hanging from his neck. He meets all of this and suddenly a pair of chocolate colored irises are staring at him, at his burning face, and words die in his mouth. Luhan can just nod a couple of times and the photographer laughs lightly at his shyness, sitting more comfortably on that rock that’s probably too little for two people.

“What’s your name, baby boy?” the man asks with a low voice and his warm breath brushes against Luhan’s flushed face. Everything about him is so charming that Luhan can only swallow and play with the edges of his white button up. What the hell is happening to his heart? Is he going to die? Should he run away? His mother has always told him not to talk with strangers, and that man is technically still a stranger, but he doesn’t feel uncomfortable in a bad way. He feels something in his tummy and something in his chest too, but he’s so confused by the photographer’s closeness that thinking seems way too impossible. Luhan swallows his saliva once more and he whispers his name with white knuckles gripping the fabric of his own shirt.

“A pretty name for a pretty boy. I’m Sehun” the man, Sehun, talks with so much confidence that it amazes Luhan. He offers his hand and Luhan shakes it lightly, skin on skin, feeling a strong grip around his fingers. Sehun’s so smooth, so strong, so placid, so deliciously alluring that everything around them kinda seem to fade away after a while. If Baekhyun is wondering what the hell they are doing, well, Luhan tries to focus on how Sehun’s lips curl into a smile whenever he would stutter.

They end up talking about the most random things for a couple of minutes, thighs barely touching and words flowing non stop. Sehun chats about his job, he talks about his favorite kinds of pictures and eventually he writes his number on the back of Luhan’s little hand with a pen he brings in his pocket. The latter mutters something about school, about his enormous garden at home, about flowers and pretty things he likes. Luhan thinks they have chemistry; there’s something about Sehun that it makes him feel safe, so damn safe that he suddenly wants to tell him everything about his life.

Baekhyun gently taps his shoulder because it’s almost noon and he has eaten half of the food on the buffet so he must run away as soon as possible, Luhan nods and gets up as well but Sehun stops him by gently taking his wrist. They exchange a few words here and there but Luhan is in a hurry, so their unexpected meeting needs to end quickly.

“It was nice talking with you” the boy tells Sehun as he jumps on his bicycle, cheeks still a bit redder than usual and words full of sincerity. Sehun reminds him to call because meeting again would be lovely, then he gently pinches his cheek with the index and middle finger. They wave at each other one last time and then Luhan disappears behind the church to follow the path to the village, mind busy trying desperately to forget how the word  _baby boy_  rolled on Sehun’s tongue.

The photographer brings the camera to his face and presses the red button hard.

_Click_

  
Baekhyun can’t stop complimenting basically everything he ate, from the crunchy salad with fresh tomatoes to the twenty pastries he swallowed in a second, but he doesn’t mention Sehun even once. Luhan  _knows_  Baekhyun  _knows_. He saw them talking, and he probably saw Sehun flirting too.  
What the hell is Luhan supposed to answer anyway? Should he admit that Sehun is basically no one to him, not a friend, not a relative, not even a acquaintance? Should he also tell Baekhyun how his shirt fitted him perfectly around his torso, how his eyes were so sharp and deep, how he kept licking his lips whenever they would stop talking?

“Don’t say anything about Sehun, please” Luhan begs when Baekhyun is about to walk away. His friend thinks for a second, he turns his head towards his mother who’s talking with Luhan’s own mother, and then smiles.

“Sehun who?”

And Luhan smiles back, he smiles with his heart a little bit lighter and thanks God Baekhyun is his best friend.

————

It’s Friday night when Luhan’s homework is still untouched on his desk, random pieces of paper scattered on the bed and heart pounding as heavily as his headache. Sehun’s number is written down neatly on his diary and on his mind. Baekhyun sent a text after dinner ‘wanna go get a drink’ but honestly, the only thing Luhan really wants is to call Sehun and see him again as soon as possible.  
He doesn’t even know why he misses him so much. They just talked like friends, nothing special happened, and yet Luhan likes to believe that Sehun wants to see him as well. He can’t be the only one who felt something as their hands touched, no, Sehun must have felt dizzy too.

So he calls him. Luhan’s tempted to hang up right after the first ring because he feels so damn stupid, but then someone on the other line picks up and it’s clearly Sehun’s voice, so the boy musters up his courage and opens his mouth.

Sehun says that he thought Luhan’d never call and he seems sincere enough, so Luhan chooses to believe him. They decide to meet on Sunday at nine in the morning near the river because Sehun has to take some picture for work, and when the man wishes him goodnight right before ending the call, Luhan bites his tongue because he called him baby boy once again and his heart can’t take it anymore.

So it’s a date, technically. Luhan slides under the sheets and hugs his doll tight, wishing it was Sunday already.

—

To have someone to dress up for, to look pretty for, is something Luhan has never experienced before. It feels great though, it feels so great that he almost didn’t sleep the night before, but it’s Sunday morning now and Luhan’s already up even though it’s only eight am. He carefully picks his outfit and gently folds it on his bed; Baekhyun once said that light yellow looks good on him, and now that he’s wearing a pair of yellow shorts and a striped shirt, well, he thinks that his best friend might be right. Luhan combs his mop of blond hair and grabs an old lipgloss he stole from his mother’s bathroom a long time ago, applying it on his lips with shaking hands. Twirling in front of the mirror while ‘Honey honey’ by ABBA plays in the background, Luhan decides he looks pretty enough and runs outside before his mother can ask any questions.  
The more he gets closer to the river, the more anxious he gets. Palming his white and yellow shirt, the one he used to adore, he wonders if it’s too much. Are those two shades of yellow similar to each other, at least? Or are his shorts way too ugly? Maybe he should have chosen something less elegant. Maybe he should have chosen a t-shirt, instead of a shirt. Maybe he should have stayed at home.

But eventually Luhan sees Sehun near his car, the same camera hanging from his neck and sunglasses on top of his black hair, and the only thing Luhan can think about is how handsome he looks in that casual suit.

“Hey baby boy, how have you been?” Sehun’s husky voice makes shivers run down Luhan’s spine as he bends down and kisses his forehead.

“I, uhm, I’ve been good, thank you” Luhan says back, inhaling Sehun’s cologne as much as he can without getting caught. The man nods and together they start walking towards the river, hands occasionally brushing and a comfortable silence between them.

The younger doesn’t really know much about first dates, but whatever that might be, well, he enjoys it a lot. He sits on a soft carpet made of fresh grass while Sehun does his job, taking pictures every time something catches his attention. He photographs the sky, the high trees, the clear water, the colorful flowers, and the animals too, if he’s fast and quiet enough. Sehun points his camera towards Luhan as well, but the younger tries to hide his face the best way he can.

“I don’t wanna ruin your collection” the boy complains with his hands covering the massive lens attached on the man’s camera. Sehun just laughs and puts his camera down, kneeling in front of Luhan.

“Let me take a picture of you, baby.”

Luhan accepts. Sehun’s begging eyes were too much for him to handle, and to be frank, feeling the man’s complete attention on himself feels really good. Actually, everything revolving around Sehun feels really good. The way he’s so touchy, so affectionate. The way his long fingers move on Luhan’s face, the way he talks, his perfume, his clothes, Luhan bets that Sehun’s lips on his skin must feel really good too, but he keeps that to himself.

Sehun is really professional when it comes to taking pictures, which is basically his work and his biggest passion. He tells Luhan how to move, how to pose, he explains some tricks to get the perfect light without using filters and the boy tries to absorb as many informations as he can. The photoshoot is cool but oh so tiring because Sehun asks Luhan to stand next to a tree, with his feet into the river, with his hands covering half of his pretty pretty face, smiling, running, sleeping, and the younger is not used to model for more than two minutes. They take a break after a couple of hours and Luhan scoots closer to Sehun hoping to catch a glimpse of the pictures he took, and god, he can’t even recognize himself at first. His face looks so young, his hair is so much lighter, his eyes are brighter than ever and his smile seems almost unreal. Sehun hums while pushing buttons as he scrolls down to see more pictures, but suddenly he stops to think.

“Baby, you should really be a model. Mind if I take some more photos? You’ll get a treat later, okay?”

Luhan says yes. He ends up with his back pressed against the cold grass, lips slightly parted as the sun bathes him in its light making him glow like a star. His shirt is slightly rolled up, bellybutton and a small portion of milky skin showing, and Sehun can’t tear his eyes away from that little piece of heaven. The photographer takes a step further when his fingertips touch Luhan’s tummy and his eyes stare into the boy’s face to catch any discomfort, but Luhan is just laying there with peachy cheeks and half-closed eyelids, so Sehun dares a little more and slowly slides his hand under the boy’s shirt until his whole chest is exposed.

Sehun takes one, thirty, fifty pics. He watches Luhan’s chest as it rises and falls steadily and every time the man would touch a sensitive spot, his back would arch beautifully.

“You’re being such a good boy, Luhan” Sehun murmurs and Luhan holds his breath. Their first date wasn’t supposed to be like this. Sehun wasn’t supposed to caress him in a such sensual way, and most importantly Luhan wasn’t supposed to enjoy it that much, but Sehun is still towering him and Luhan’s still staring at the camera like a pro, so it’s something they both wanted in the end.

They stop when it’s almost midday and Sehun decides it’s enough for today, so he offers to treat Luhan to lunch at a little restaurant in the city as promised. The younger sits in the passenger seat, knees touching his chest and irises scanning headlights and buildings and people and all the things he has never seen. Now that he’s stuck in a traffic jam, he kinda understands why his father decided to leave the countryside. The city is so big, so bright, so alive.

Sehun treats Luhan like a real prince. The Italian restaurant they’re eating at seems really pricy and the numbers on the menu confirms it, but the food tastes like paradise and Luhan’s tummy has never been this full before. Sehun buys him ice cream after lunch, and Luhan begs the ice-cream man to pour some honey on top of his cone because everything tastes better with honey in it.

“My baby boy really likes honey, doesn’t he?” Sehun chuckles as his thumb sweetly brushes the ice-cream off the angle of Luhan’s mouth, bringing it to his own lips and sucking it afterwards.

The fact that they kinda kissed makes Luhan’s heart pound in his throat until it’s five o’clock in the afternoon. They are sitting in Sehun’s car in a street near Luhan’s house because honestly, he doesn’t want his mother to meet the photographer. Ever. He knows Sehun is much older than him, and he knows they are both men, but the feeling of having butterflies in his stomach makes his head light and his heart lighter, and he doesn’t want it to stop. He likes the way Sehun’s hands ran over his torso, the way his thumb touched his mouth, the way he held his hand among the crowd.

“Let’s meet next Sunday as well” Sehun suggests and Luhan immediately agrees. They say goodbye to each other and the older kisses the boy’s temple before he can run inside.

Later, when it’s night and Luhan is about to change clothes, he brings his striped shirt to his nose and almost moans because it stills smells like Sehun’s cologne. The same dizziness hits him like a tsunami and he falls asleep with his nose buried in that shirt, wishing it was Sehun’s body instead.

—

They do meet the next Sunday, and the Sunday after that, and the Sunday after that as well, and neither of them wants their little dates to end. Sehun would take him on car rides to nowhere in particular just to hear Luhan sing pop songs and take pictures of him. Luhan would be shy at first, trying to cover his body as much as possible, but he’d crumble under the man’s skilled hands as they rub and caress and press all over his chest like they were made to do so. They would talk during lunch, cuddle on Sehun’s couch in the afternoon, watch cartoons and sometimes make out too. Sehun would put on some old tunes and tell Luhan to place his feet on top of his own, since the latter didn’t really know how to slow dance, and they would twirl around the living room like a newly wed couple.

The first time Sehun kisses Luhan on the lips on a cloudy morning in April, Luhan thinks he is going to die. He lets Sehun take the lead, feeling his hands on his hips and then his tongue gently poking his lower lip to ask for permission. Luhan still remembers how his head spun around for a whole hour, how Sehun kept whispering that he tasted like the sweetest honey in the world, how he ended up with a collection of hickeys on his pale neck and how he wanted more of whatever Sehun was doing to him.

It was so wrong, so terribly wrong that Luhan doesn’t show up to church for almost a month and half. Baekhyun called several times, but the shame was too much and the boy always ended up finding lame excuses to skip mass to meet Sehun. He told his friend that he was ill, that his cat felt sick, that he sprained his ankle, that his mother didn’t let him, and eventually Baekhyun stopped calling.

Before he has even the time to realize it, Sehun becomes everything that makes him feel safe. In his arms, Luhan feels right. Complete. Loved.

And the best part is that Sehun feels the same.

—

“If you could eat just one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be?” Sehun asks on a hot Sunday morning in May, fingers busy creating a flower crown for Luhan and camera placed safely next to them. The flowers Sehun picked are wonderful, so colorful and pretty just like his baby. He bets that photoshoot will be the best among the ones they have already taken in the last months, even though it’s really difficult to choose. Luhan looks stunning in each pic, youth engraved in his bones and eyes as big as the moon, with his pale skin and rosy pink lips he made Sehun fall in love with a simple exchange of stares and the man is sure tons of other people would fall in love with him too. Suddenly, the idea of people just looking at Luhan, his Luhan, makes him regret taking all those pictures. He has never been a possessive kind of person but with his baby, his favorite baby boy, things and feelings are way too hard to control. No one can see, watch, feel, touch what’s his. And last time he checked, Luhan is his.

“Honey” Luhan answers a minute later with his head resting on Sehun’s lap and eyes shut. The latter laughs and shakes his head.

“I swear you love honey more than you love me, Luhan. I’m jealous” the photographer jokes as his hand reaches for another pale yellow primrose to add to his crown, but before he can realize what’s happening the primrose falls on the grass and suddenly Luhan is hugging him tight. The younger scolds him and tells him to never say that again because Sehun is his everything, his moon, his stars, his sun, his water, his earth, his oxygen. He would do literally anything for him, even kill someone if he had to.

“Show me how much you love me, then” Sehun nuzzles his nose in Luhan’s mess of honey blond hair, lips traveling down until they meet the smooth skin of his neck, leaving sweet pecks that make Luhan shiver like the wind in December. The man’s thin but strong hands slowly make their way up the boy’s bright blue t-shirt and Luhan hides his face in the crook of the older’s shoulder, feeling fingertips caressing every inch of his burning skin and thumbs drawing circles on his hips. Sehun knows how and where to touch Luhan. He knows his body better than a map.

Luhan feels confident enough to roll the lower part of his body against Sehun’s one in a smooth movement, and when Sehun’s grip grows tighter, Luhan understands that this, whatever they’re doing, will end in a much different way from all the other times they’ve touched.

“Will my baby boy be good for me?” Sehun’s lips whisper in his ear, guiding Luhan’s trembling hands towards his belt. With a slight nod and a blank mind, Luhan says yes.

Luhan trusts Sehun more than he trusts himself. He trusts him enough to let him touch and kiss all the parts of his body he’s insecure about, he trusts him enough to get on his knees and take Sehun’s length first in his hands and then inside his little pink mouth, tongue inexpertly licking all the way from the base to the tip and drool dripping from his chin. Sehun’s cock feels hot and heavy between his stretched lips, but the way his lover groans whenever his tip hits the back of Luhan’s throat makes him feel a little bit better. It also makes his eyes look up, his poor watery eyes, and when Sehun’s hand gently holds the boy’s head to sink his cock deeper down his throat, Luhan feels himself chocking because he can’t breathe and tears are blinding him.

He lets Sehun fuck his mouth the way he wants, though. He watches as the photographer furrows his brows and moans, swearing and rocking his hips at a slow pace until the wetness and the warmth are so fucking good that he’s about to paint him white.

“You’re doing great, baby boy. Just like that, yeah… - _fuck_ ” Sehun’s raspy voice echoes in his mind as Luhan bobs his head up and down as fast as he can, hollowing his cheeks to suck harder. The younger can taste the man’s precum when he smears it around the tip of his cock, twirling his tongue in a way that makes Sehun see stars.

Luhan’s muffled ‘ _daddy_ ’s and the tears rolling down his flushed face are something that the photographer would like to record on a tape because god, he has never fucked such a delicious small creature in his whole life and the fact that Luhan keeps calling him daddy is almost enough to make him cum.

“You like that, uh? You like sucking me off, don’t you? Such a whore” Sehun’s cock twitches when Luhan moans, and those vibrations are the spark that pushes him over the edge. He cums on the younger’s parted lips, his name rolling on his tongue and heart beating fast in his chest like a hammer. Luhan’s own hand works inside his pants and strokes himself until his boxers are wet and sticky, throat burning and eyes puffy, and then he collapses against Sehun’s broad chest like it’s his favorite pillow.

It doesn’t really matter if his mother asks Luhan why his knees are ruined and his t-shirt stained, because if this is real love, then Luhan would gladly stain every piece of cloth he owns and ruin his whole body, too.

—

Things are great. They couldn’t be better, actually. Roses now finally decorate Luhan’s garden, and  he spends almost entire afternoons taking care of them; he also cuts a few and places them on the kitchen counter to bring color and life in the room. The warm air of mid-May dances through the curtains of his room and his hair as he studies for his last exams, teeth nervously biting the pencil and  fingernails tapping on the wooden desk. He really wants to graduate with his other classmates and then find himself a good job, maybe in the city too, so meeting Sehun would be easier.

His relationship with the photographer reminds him of a fairytale, one of the many that his mother used to tell him before falling asleep, and it’s okay if he can meet his prince only on Sunday (if Sehun isn’t busy, though). It’s also okay if they spend their dates just lying on the grass and taking pictures, or maybe having sex and dining somewhere nice in the city. Luhan cherishes every single second spent with him and at some point he realizes that hell, he would even marry Sehun. Who cares about age? Age is just a number, everybody says that. Who cares about the fact that they are both men? The city is way more open-minded than that little village, and Luhan’s dream is to run away from there. He wants to live in a small apartment with the love of his life, he wants to cook dinner for him and then cuddle until the sunlight knocks on their window the morning after.

It’s not like they don’t keep in touch; Sehun would call him twice a day everyday even to just know if everything was alright. They would send each other silly texts with heart emojis and an infinite series of _i love you_ ’s, not really caring about how cheesy that is. Overall, their love is pure and unbreakable and strong and perfect and all those nice things.

Or not?

“What do you mean you’re moving?” Luhan’s eyes are as empty as the void when they see some boxes scattered on the floor of Sehun’s living room. They are already sealed with dark brown tape and the boy’s heart is inside one of them, ready to be shipped somewhere just like the rest of Sehun’s belongings. Luhan’s butt meets the cold floor in record time, ears filled with Sehun’s excuses and the man’s strong arms wrapped around his shoulders like a comforting blanket.

“I’m leaving for London, baby boy. It’s for work, I can’t do anything about it.”

 _Yes you can_ , Luhan thinks, _just refuse and don’t go_ , but it’s so physically hard for his brain to process everything that he ends up in silence instead, dry cheeks and dry throat. Is Sehun leaving him for good?

“When were you thinking about telling me?” Luhan’s hoarse voice sounds weird even to his own ears. Sehun’s guilty stare feels like a stab in his heart, his beaten, hurting and poor heart, and everything that leaves Sehun’s mouth after that is just a blurry mess.

Luhan gets up and leaves his lover’s apartment without a piece of himself. He hears Sehun calling his name over and over and over and over, but the bus stop is so near and he happens to have some coins for a ticket.

He tries to ignore how Sehun’s fist bangs against the bus to catch his attention, but it hurts.

—

If days are hard, nights are harder to deal with. Distractions are okay. Luhan spends hours with his nose buried in textbooks and notes, he takes care of his beloved garden and even though his fingers are now stained with dirt and full of scratches, that pain is nothing compared to what his heart is going through. Luhan would rather have thorns stuck in his skin than in his chest. He plants beautiful flowers and digs and cuts and trims, but days turn into nights and time doesn’t stop, so when he’s lying down with his eyes staring at the ceiling, the knot in his throat strangles him and hot tears run down his cheeks like a waterfall. He wakes up the morning after with heavy eyelids and heavier thoughts, and he cries again.

School helps a little bit, but it’s not enough. Luhan returns to church the next Sunday and Baekhyun is there, sitting with some other guy Luhan has never seen before, and they are chatting happily. Mass is boring, so Luhan leaves before people start to sing because he’s not in the mood for it. He’s not in the mood for anything, apart from maybe being held by Sehun’s strong arms once again. He hops down from his bicycle near the river and bites the same apple, sitting on the same spot and looking at the same grass. As he munches silently, his eyes spot a cigarette butt and he picks it up, but his vision gets so blurry that he can’t see anything anymore. Luhan throws it away with a mad, bitter taste on his tongue and shaky fingers wiping his tears from his face.

His cellphone is dying somewhere under his bed, where a bunch of other useless stuff lies covered in dust. Luhan doesn’t even want to look at it. The thought of Sehun not even trying to contact him makes him fucking sick.

Things go on like this for about two weeks, and every day that passes, Luhan bends a little more. He gave Sehun pretty much anything a young boy could give, from his time to his innocence, but he doesn’t break yet. School is what keeps his feet on the ground and his mind occupied; he aces his final exams, which allows Luhan to throw his graduation hat up in the sky and pretend everything is okay for a small fraction of time. His mother is proud indeed, and she greets him with a flower crown because her son loves them so so so much.

“Why are you crying, love?” his mother kindly asks him while hugging that small frame of his, the same old frame that Sehun’s hands and lips molded every Sunday. Luhan tells her that he’s happy because school’s finally over and he can rest at home, and he doesn’t tell her that the primroses in the flower crown are the same that Sehun used to put in his hair when they were still together.

They get back home from the ceremony when the clock hits five o’clock and the sky is still bright. Luhan takes off his clothes and slips under the fresh sheets of his bed, emotionally as drained as a dry flower and heart beating slowly in his chest. Inevitably, he thinks of Sehun. His flight for London is tomorrow morning and he doesn’t know how to feel about this whole situation. He misses Sehun so fucking much his bones ache and his fingernails digs painfully in his skin. He misses his cologne, the way he would always smoke after sex, the way they would sway around the house to an invisible rhythm, hot messy kisses in the shower and warm tight hugs when things were hard for both of them.

Luhan can’t get over Sehun. He will never get over him. He doesn’t want to, at least. Letting go of what they had would mean forgetting, and Luhan doesn’t want to forget.

“Luhan, baby,” Luhan cringes as his mother gently calls him from the kitchen, “get the door!”

Luhan lazily puts on the first item of clothing his hands can grab (black shorts and white t-shirt) and crawls to the front door, already thinking about what kind of excuse to tell Baekhyun because honestly he’s not expecting anyone else. His mother isn’t expecting anyone as well, he thinks.

When he opens the front door, Luhan’s eyes meet a mix of of dark sunglasses and black hair, white button up and elegant navy suit, a familiar scent of aftershave and a pair of full lips he knows too well because he has kissed them plenty of times. Luhan also meets two other pieces of paper he can’t really recognize.

“Aren’t weddings beautiful?” Sehun asks with a smirk, watching as Luhan’s small and pale hands reach for one ticket. His own airplane ticket.

Luhan stares at what his fingers are touching and he looks up again.

“So are you coming or not?”

Luhan presses the ticket hard to his chest and this time words don’t die in his throat.

“Yes,” he breathes, “ _yes, please_.”


End file.
